Amelia's Hope
by January in June
Summary: [AU] ObiWan put one hand over his heart and said softly, “ObiWan. ObiWan Kenobi.” There was a pause, and Ami bit her lips. She put a hand over her own heart and whispered. “Amelia Peter.”
1. Amelia

Ami was blind.

No, not blind. Her eyes were closed, and sticky, heavy with swelling and pus. It took all of her strength and concentration to raise her eyelids, though she only succeeded in raising one.

The room around her was dull, cold, and dirty. The walls and floor were pale, grimy stone and littered with the bones of strange, exotic animals. There was a black, wooden door, and there was a window – or rather, a hole in the side of one wall where the stone had crumbled away. A particularly stubborn ray of blue-green sunlight shone through. From outside the walls there was a shriek, like a bird, and then all was silent.

Ami let this be her world. She was too tired, and in too much pain to question her surroundings. She felt the blindness creeping over her eyes again and did not struggle as she sank into unconsciousness.

It was a day before Ami fought the battle over her eyes again, but this time she opened two and was forced to admit that this was no dream. She was… somewhere, and in excruciating amounts of pain. She tried to move, to roll over onto her back, but her limbs were unwilling or unable to respond. Ami gave up on movement and decided to concentrate on eyesight. With her swollen, miserable eyes she focused very hard and discovered that the red, torn flesh a few inches to the right was her arm. She followed her arm up to her wrist and made another discovery: shackles. Chained, hand and foot, a prisoner.

The door opened, and Ami felt a wave of terror. Black, cold boots entered her vision, and then strong, merciless hands gripped her shoulders and hauled her upright.

"You will fear me," the Sith snarled.

The speech, the language was lost on Ami, whose home world was millions of light years away. But Ami did not need a translator to hear the malice or the cruelty in the guttural barking of the Sith. Her eyes tried desperately to focus on her tormentor, but his face was a dark void, or else she really was going blind.

Then, like a fire, the pain ripped through her consciousness. It was as though every cell in her body was bursting open, bleeding, dying. Ami may have screamed, but the sound seemed to disappear into the Sith's void. The pain stopped as suddenly as it started, and the Sith dropped her, holding instead a pulsating globe of red blood. He left.

Ami wept. She wondered how many times this particular exchange had happened. She struggled to remember a time when her world was not one of bones, blood, and blackness, but she could remember nothing. Even her name escaped her. She was weak, she was dying.

Death. As thick tears pulsed from her weary eyes, Ami thought that death would be welcome in this room – anything to escape. She closed her eyes and prayed for a way out. "Help me," she thought passionately. "Let me free."

There was a ricocheting snap, and Ami hurriedly opened her eyes, searching frantically for the source of the noise. It was her shackles, they had cracked in half, each of them. Her battered mind accepted this without question. Her eyes flew to the door, then the window. Could she escape?

With a violent effort she pushed herself to her knees, then her feet. The room spun and she fell forwards, towards the window. Unable to bring herself to a stand, she crawled on hands and knees towards the only freedom she knew, crawling through the bones and the cobwebs to get there. Once she reached the wall she ran a tentative hand up the rough stone and pulled herself slowly, painfully, to the opening. It the wall went barely waist high, but it took every bit of her strength for Ami to topple out into the dense vegetation.

Her body threatened to loose consciousness again, and Ami paused in the foliage, on all fours, taking deep breaths. The air was thick and heavy, and there didn't seem to be enough oxygen to breathe.

The Sith, of course, already knew Ami had "escaped." She had tried this pathetic pantomime once before, without even making it out the window. He remained hidden, focused on sensing the girl's presence. Let her run. She would not escape. She would only replenish her midi-chlorian count.

Ami fought to her feet. "I've got this far," she thought fervently, hugging her arms around her middle. "I will get further. Help me get further." She took a step forward, then another, until the footsteps came fast and in uneven succession. She could not run, but she stumbled, she fought, she fled the terror she could feel growing in her mind. The Sith was coming, he was following, but he had not caught her yet. "Help," she prayed. "Please, someone, help."

Thick palm frond and leaves whipped at her face. Thorns and branches tore at her clothes and Ami knew she could not run much farther. She took one last step and the ground fell away from her. She tumbled into the ditch – a riverbed really. The last remains of what was once a formidable river swirled around her hands and knees. The water was cool, at least. It might be nice to die here.

The terror behind her was growing. Ami could feel him coming closer, slowly, like a cat on an injured mouse. She could do nothing but wait.

And yet, slowly, in her mind, she sensed the approach of something good. Heaven, perhaps. A soft, white light entered her consciousness, and began to grow. She was dying, after all.

The Sith sensed it, too. A Jedi. He quickened his pace, thrashing through the forest towards Ami, knowing he must reach her before the Jedi.

Ami raised her head. There was a rumbling, machine noise and a giant flying bug – no, not a bug – a flying motorcar came racing towards her. There was a hiss, and a blaze of blue light.

The force had never called Obi-Wan Kenobi that strongly before. Mace Windu had been hesitant to turn their starcraft around and head for an empty galaxy, all because Obi-Wan had a "hunch." But when Obi-Wan jumped in the speeder and began heading for the abandoned midi mines, his hunch had turned into a full blooded call from the force. He didn't even wait for the speeder to land before he threw himself between the girl and the Sith.

Lightsabers crashed, sizzling and throwing the murky forest into sharp blue and red shadow. Ami watched in haze as the Jedi and the Sith fought furiously, seamlessly. Then there was one final sizzle, and a scream that tore through the night. The Sith fell, his saber extinguished.

There was a pause as Obi-Wan regarded the dead Sith, and silenced his lightsaber. Then the Jedi turned to the girl.

Her face, her lips, her body was swollen and bloody, humanoid but bruised extensively and barely covered by dirty, torn clothing. Her eyes were blue and full of fear. She tried to back away from him, splashing in the murky water but going nowhere.

Obi-Wan put away his lightsaber and knelt before the girl. He held his hands out to the front, palms up, and spoke calmly. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said softly. "And I would like to take you away from here."

Again, language was lost on Ami, but Obi-Wan's soft voice was soothing. The fear in her eyes did not subside, but she stopped trying to back away.

"Please come with me," Obi-Wan said, catching her eyes and holding them. Ami swallowed visibly, then slowly held out one trembling hand. It was all Obi-Wan needed. He leaned forward, took her hand, and swept the girl up in his arms. She was thin, light, and nearing unconsciousness as he placed her in the speeder. Without a look back, Obi-Wan jumped in, threw the speeder into gear and flew for the starship.

Wind raced past Ami, and she fought to stay awake. Her stomach lurched as the ground left them, and the speeder shot past the tree line. She gripped the sides of the speeder, nauseous. The gesture was not lost on Obi-Wan, but he felt speed was necessary – the girl would not live much longer if she remained here. He didn't know how long the Sith had tortured her, but the force inside of her was flickering, struggling.

Mace Windu saw Obi-Wan's speeder approaching at full speed and opened the landing dock on the starcraft anxiously. The speeder made a smooth landing and Obi-Wan pulled the girl out after him. He tried to set the humanoid on her feet but Ami swayed, her knees buckling. Mace Windu approached, face set in a stern, worried frown. "Who is that, Obi-Wan?"

"I do not know, Master Windu," Obi-Wan said, still holding the fainting girl upright. He put two fingers to her forehead, attempting to probe deeper into her mind. "Her thoughts are so alien," he said. "And she is frightened senseless." Obi-Wan sent a strong sense of sleep into Ami. Her trembling limbs eased and Obi-Wan picked her up effortlessly. "Get us out of here, and quickly. Send a med-droid to me, I'll have her in the bacta tank."

Ami coughed, wetly. She rolled on her side and spat out the phlem, then took a deep, even breath. She opened her eyes. The walls were shiny, metallic, clean, with the occasional flashing button or computer screen. She sat up, her muscles protesting but working. White cloth sheets rustled around her as she swung her legs to the side and stood. She was dressed in a simple, white tunic, which felt soft and easy against her newly healed skin. The smooth tiled floor was cool against her bare feet. Ami stretched her arms and was pleased to see there weren't any shackles.

Shackles. The Sith. It all came racing back and Ami sat back on her bed, heavily. For the first time in months her brain seemed to be working, and she could remember. Where had it happened? Hadn't she been taking out the trash after dinner, when Fang came racing back from the field, his tail between his legs? "What is it, boy?" Ami asked, putting and hand down to grab Fang's collar. "Coyote spook ya?" And then the night had exploded, red gunfire everywhere, and Ami had screamed as the man without a face shot her, point blank with a black, wicked gun.

Lightyears away from Earth, Ami pulled aside her tunic and found a small, circular scar just above her heart. It hadn't been a nightmare, after all. But now where was she? This certainly wasn't the Sith's dungeon.

She heard voices, from down a corridor, and she turned to follow them, walking slowly and fearfully down the hall into a much wider, open room.

Obi-Wan and Mace stopped talking as she entered the room. The two Jedi were sitting at the table in the galley, and they stood slowly and bowed, but did not move, waiting for the frightened girl to make the first move. She took a step closer, but did not speak.

Obi-Wan put one hand over his heart and said softly, "Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan Kenobi." He then gestured to the Jedi Master beside him. "Mace Windu." There was a pause, and Ami licked her lips.

She put a hand over her own heart and whispered. "Amelia Peter."

"Amalyeh-piter." Obi-Wan mangled her name as he bowed. He straightened, and walked to the map-wall, which he activated. Ami took a step backwards as he did, but watched intently.

Obi-Wan turned to the girl. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said again, pointing to himself. He then pointed to the lower right hand side of the map. "Coruscant."

Ami understood. His hometown. She had never heard of Coruscant, though. She wondered what state it was in. She took a few careful steps forward to come closer to the map. And then she gasped. Coruscant wasn't a city. It was a planet.

The map whirled and twirled in front of her. Stars, planets, asteroid belts in animation wheeled before her eyes. There were galaxies, many of them in the double spiraled arm she knew must contain an average sun with an average solar system and one very tiny earth. She began to cry. She had no way of telling this strange man beside her which corner of the universe she was from.

"It looks as though she's never seen a star-system map before, Obi-Wan," Mace Windu said.

"Indeed," Obi-Wan said softly. Ami, crying silently, sat down on the floor without ceremony in front of the star system map. Mace approached and handed Obi-Wan a plate full of Banja cake.

"Get her to eat something. We'll be out of hyperspace shortly, but she should eat before we get there." Mace Windu retired to the cockpit to oversee the landing procedures.

"Amalyeh-piter," Obi-Wan said cautiously, to get her attention. The girl looked up at him through teary eyes. The Jedi took one of the small cakes and ate it meaningfully, then set the plate down beside Ami. She reached out tentatively, took a cake, and brought it to her lips for a hesitant bite. She swallowed, smiled, and began eating with a purpose. To Obi-Wan's amusement, the girl finished the entire plate herself and then accepted a warm glass of Bajjah, as well.

"Thank you," Ami said in her own language, feeling satisfied. She stood and watched the star map again. Obi-Wan kept his distance, arms folded. Obviously the girl was intelligent – he could see it in the way her eyes methodically searched the map from left to right, top to bottom – but it was also obvious from the worried, distressed look on her face she couldn't find her home world.

"Obi-Wan," Mace Windu said, entering the galley. "We've come out of hyperspace, and we're landing at the Jedi temple now."

Obi-Wan nodded. "How do we explain this to her, I wonder?" he asked. Ami watched his face, curiously.

"I suggest we open the hatch and let her see for herself."

Obi-Wan decided to do just that. "Amalyeh-piter," he said. "This is Coruscant." He activated the main hatch, and sunlight flooded the starcraft.


	2. The Council

Ami was barefoot as she stepped off the spacecraft. Aliens, humanoids, and speeders buzzed around her, shining, grunting, speaking, humming, and yet Ami was most distressed about her bare feet. The ground was cold and vibrated with a strange energy, and Ami spent her first thirty seconds on Corsucant staring at her bare, pink feet against the cold gray landing platform.

"Amelyah-piter?" Obi-Wan asked, jerking her attention away from the ground. Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair. It hadn't taken him long to convince Ami to walk out of the space craft, but she tread lightly, on the tips of her bare feet, her lips pressed tightly together. Obi-Wan held out a hand. Ami swallowed and took it.

Obi-Wan led her into the Jedi Temple, and the fear on her face eased slightly, replaced by awe. The temple was impressive – with it stone monoliths, statues, archways, passages, and Jedi. Ami stood and stared, her lips parted slightly.

"Master Yoda!" Obi-Wan spotted the Jedi Master and walked forward to meet him, dropping Ami's hand. Ami trotted dutifully behind him, nervous.

Yoda stopped, and turned. He looked up briefly at Obi-Wan, and then settled on Ami. He stared into her eyes, and Ami shifted uncomfortably.

Yoda reached out to the girl, and placed both of his palms on her forehead, wrapping his bony fingers around her. Ami drew in her breath sharply as he touched her. What am I doing? She thought. This is crazy. She wanted to flinch and jerk away…and yet… Ami knew him somehow. This strange, mottled midget seemed to inspire confidence, peace, trust.

Under the Jedi's hands, the images came fast. They both watched her life on Earth, as though in fast forward, with the truly poignant moments pausing briefly: the infant Ami, held in her mother's arms for the first time – eight-year-old Ami, her fingers pressed against the aquarium glass, watching the sea lions – ten-year-old Ami, catching the softball her father tossed – the new puppy – her first kiss – swimming out to the lighthouse – the birth of her sister – the terrifying night – the hooded, robed figure – her shackles – her prison – a cry for help – a dream – the Sith – Obi-Wan.

Yoda released her. Ami's eyes spun for a moment before her vision cleared.

"Very grave, this is." Yoda said to Obi-Wan. "Important, I sense this girl to be. Once she is settled, come to the Jedi Council room."

"I will. Follow me," Obi-Wan said gently to Ami, motioning for her to come.

Yoda nodded, and then turned to make his way to the Jedi Council chambers. The force was strong with this new girl, he mused to himself. Very, very strong. And yet there was something hidden just underneath her surface, something that filled Yoda with hope and fear at the same time. The most important thing, however, was to inform the Jedi Council that he had seen a Sith in that girl's mind.

"Your hand goes here," Obi-Wan said to Ami. He was aware that she doesn't understand a word he says, but language comes from experience. He refuses to patronize her. "Like this." He pressed his hand against the guest suite lock, and the door slid open with a pneumonic hiss. He touched the panel again and the door closed. Obi-Wan motioned for Ami to try.

Catching on, Ami stepped up and pressed her own palm against the lock. She smiled when the door opens and muttered something in English. She peered inside to the room beyond.

A guest chamber, the room was lavishly furnished. On the opposite wall were expansive windows, currently covered with thick pink drapes. The wall to wall carpet matched, in a plush fabric that looked as soft as it felt. Beneath the window was a low bench with fluffy red cushions, well lit by a soft white light from the two lamps on either end. Closer to the door was an oversized bed, made in a circle to adapt to a universe of species – a line of thick pillows bordered the outside of the circle, and inside a sloping indentation was filled with soft blankets. It looked so comfortable that Ami began to tremble.

"_Is this for me?_" Ami asked. She pointed to the bed, and then to herself.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes."

"_Oh._" Ami sighed as she stepped onto the carpet, and then reached out to feel the pillows of the bed. She hoisted herself into the circular pillows and burrowed deeply into the blankets. She was asleep before Obi-Wan could turn to leave.

He closed the door behind him and made his way to the Jedi Council, where Yoda had already called the members to order. Obi-Wan stepped through the door and made his way to the center of the room, facing Yoda. The door slid shut behind him. His robes swayed, settled, and the room was silent for a moment, each Jedi Master examining him.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Yoda says, breaking the silence. "Of your mission to Madegarthe, inform the council."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "Master Windu and I had been escorting a senator home. There had been some vague threats to the Senator Rathbyrne, and Master Windu felt it best we accompany him to his home system of Madegarthe. Returning from this mission, I felt a great disturbance in the force, along the empty Irrise system. I insisted that we follow my feelings, until they led us to the third planet of the Gogathyians."

There was a murmur in the Council room as each Jedi stirred. Gogathyians. The name rang with an evil of its own. In the dark days when Sith were more plentiful and more powerful, they captured Jedi and brought them to the Gogathyians. There the Sith had perfected a method of extracting midichlorians from the blood of their victims. Legend has it that the Sith would ingest the captured midichlorians to increase their control over the force.

Obi-Wan continued. "I found the girl in the forests, being pursued by a figure in a cloak. The figure… could sense my arrival, and he was armed with a lightsaber. I fought him, and struck him down. I saw him fall, but did not take notice of him after that. I could feel the girl's life force flickering with the evil of that planet, and I felt it best to get her away from there as quickly as possible. It is my opinion that she was held captive at one of the ancient midi farms. She appeared to be the soul victim… or survivor. I could sense no other presence."

Yoda cleared his throat. "Seen this in her mind, I have. Captive, she was."

Obi-Wan swallowed and continued. "When I brought her aboard the ship, she was weakened to the point of unconsciousness. I bathed her in bacta. Her skin was - " Obi-Wan paused as the memory flooded him. Drawing back the fabric – her skin lacerated – blackened – weeping. "So scarred. She had been in the mines for months, at least. But she healed well. When she woke, I displayed a general star system map. She was unable to communicate her origins. I brought her here, and she sleeps now in a dignitary's guest chambers."

"Met this young woman, I have." Yoda said, addressing the council. "Strong with her, the Force is. Potential for great strength, I sensed."

"Is she to be trained as a Jedi, then?" Depa Billaba asked, with only the slightest touch of sorrow in her voice. She among the Jedi would sympathize with a young girl torn from her family, strong in the force.

"She is far too old," Mace Windu cautioned. "I too, have seen this girl, and Master Yoda is right to call her a young woman. She is more woman than child, and well beyond the years of a padawan."

"Master Yoda speaks of a great strength," Saesee Tiin said. "Which raises the question: which is more dangerous – to train her now, an elder padawan, or to let her power remain unharnessed, undisciplined? Sooner or later those sensitive to the Force become aware of their abilities."

"There is another barrier," Mace Windu said. "One of language and custom. Observing her manners and her speech, she is from a galaxy far beyond the reaches of the Republic. She does not speak a recognizable language, or understand any of us when we speak. She appears amazed by our simplest technologies. She has much to learn."

"She is not without intelligence," Obi-Wan argued. "She is methodical. She listens when spoken to, and can follow my example."

"Perhaps a compromise is in order?" Yarael Poof suggested. "The girl could remain here, and learn our language and our customs, before a decision is made regarding Jedi training. Time spent here would allow all of us to observe the girl and her manners before making exceptions."

"Master Poof, aa wise suggestion, yes." Yoda. "Agreed, has the council?"

There was a murmur of assent.

"Speak to her, Obi-Wan. Learn, she will." Yoda dismissed Obi-Wan. He left. "Far more serious news, I have," Yoda continued. "A Sith, the girl has seen…"


	3. Armed with Language

They were both having nightmares. Obi-Wan dreamt of burnt skin, of deep wounds and gouges in flesh. He dreamt he saw his own skin burning, burning with an icy blue fire. In his dream, she was screaming, and he couldn't move.

Ami was dreaming of a voice. "Tell me where you are," the voice demanded. Ami rolled over. "No," she whispered in her sleep. "Tell me where he is!" the voice grew darker, more threatening. Ami whimpered. The voice continued, thundering in her head. "Bring me to him! Bring me to him!"

"Never!" Ami shouted, and sat bolt upright, awake and trembling. She blinked, and looked around her, confused. The room was mostly pink, or red, with white lights. The colors were warm, soothing. Ami felt herself relax slightly, and took the time to look around, her eyes resting on the portraits on the wall, the seven clocks on a mantelpiece, the refrigerator-like wardrobe, and the curvy and decorative vanity, with a white and fluffy stool before it. Ami pushed her blankets aside and clambered out of the oddly shaped bed, and wiggled her toes in the plush carpet. She smiled, and began to explore.

First, she examined the vanity, pulling open the drawers and rustling through the insides. There were several different combs and brushes, and little jars of delicious smelling soaps. In another drawer were ribbons, in a third drawer small knives and files. In the cabinets beneath the vanity she found several white, fluffy towels.

She turned her attention next to the refrigerator-wardrobe, which opened easily. Inside were long, flowing pants and tunics in soft colors. Ami looked at the white robe she'd been wearing the past two days and decided a change of clothing would do her some good.

Was there a bathroom in here? Ami was suddenly struck by the need to relieve herself. Beside the wardrobe was another sliding door, much like the entrance to this room. As Ami approached, the door slid open to reveal a comfortable and cheery white bathroom. The appliances looked familiar enough, and Ami hesitantly made use of the facilities. She was delighted by what appeared to be a shower, with one button producing a spray of warm, soapy crème that smelled like vanilla and the other a stream of pleasantly hot, clear water. She took a quick shower, uncertain whether some alien was about to burst in and ask her why she was washing herself in toothpaste, or something ridiculous like that. She scrubbed her hair and body quickly, and came to the embarrassing conclusion that she was relatively clean to begin with. Someone must have bathed her between that horrifying lair and waking on Obi-Wan's starship. Obi-Wan himself, perhaps? Ami blushed heavily at the thought and turned off the shower, drying herself rapidly with one of the towels she found beneath the vanity.

Shivering slightly, Ami stood before the wardrobe and debated whether or not it was a cultural insult to take some of these clothes. "Well," Ami mused to herself. "I'm not sure I have much choice."

She choose a pair of tan trousers that were much too long for her, tied them snugly about her waist and rolled up the cuffs until her ankles showed from beneath the soft material. Next, she chose a light lavender top that – to her dismay – had four sleeves. It fit her well enough, except for the extra arms. Ami tied the two trailing sleeves behind her back, like a sash. That would have to do.

Ami sat at the vanity and opened the drawer with the combs. She chose one that looked simple enough and dragged it through her wet hair. Ami peered at the mirror. Last she could remember, her hair had been cut to her shoulders. Now it trailed down her back, nearly to her waist. How long had she been with that terrible man without a face? How long had her parents –

- her parents. Ami was struck with a sudden, crippling bout of homesickness. Tears leaked down either side of her face, and she attempted to keep combing her hair, her hand shaking with the effort. A strangled sob forced itself through her lips. Where was she? Where WAS she? Would she ever go home again?

None of that, Ami thought sharply to herself. "I'm ok." she told the mirror. "I'm alive, and I'm going to be ok. I'm brave. I'm strong. I'm eighteen years – " Ami stopped abruptly, thinking of her long hair. "I'm nineteen? Eighteen and a half? Twenty-two? Dammit." She parted her hair down the middle and braided down her back, her fingers rapid with anger. She didn't even know how old she was anymore. She didn't know anything anymore.

With a resigned sigh, Ami opened the drawer with the ribbons and selected one, tying off her long braid. She gazed at herself in the mirror. "I suppose I look presentable."

She stood, and opened the wardrobe again, this time glancing at the bottom. There – shoes. Well, at least, slippers. Ami found a pair that fit reasonably well and sat on the floor to put them on.

Her stomach growled. When was the last time she'd eaten? Really eaten? She stood and decided that her hunger trumped any reservations about going outside her room. She needed food.

She stood, and walked to the door. There was a curious tingle in the air, as she approached. Like the moment before a sneeze, but without any of that discomfort. She opened the door to find Obi-Wan, waiting, just a few feet from the door.

Ami flinched in surprise, then looked at the Jedi with embarrassment. The tingling in the air seemed to grow greater as she did.

"Good morning," Obi-Wan said, with a small smile.

"Ghud mohrning." Ami repeated his words, purposefully, mangling the strange tongue. Obi-Wan was delighted at her attempt, and nodded his approval. Ami's stomach gave a very loud growl, and she placed a hand over her midsection.

"Are you hungry?" Obi-Wan asked. "Follow me." He motioned for her to follow. The door slid shut behind Ami, and Obi-Wan had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. She had tied the extra arms of her tunic behind her back.

Ami's shoes were too big for her, after all, and she flopped her way down the hallway, feeling very gangly and unkempt. Obi-Wan began pointing at objects they passed and naming them, Ami bravely repeating him and trying to store the new vocabulary.

"Door."

"Dhor."

"Lamp."

"Lhamp."

"Statue."

"Stathue." Ami knew her accent sounded ridiculous. "Statue," she tried again, under her breath, and paused to run her hand along the base of the statue, a bust of a Jedi long past. There was an inscription at the base of the bust, in this new foreign tongue. She ached to be able to read it.

Her stomach growled again and she hurried to catch up to Obi-Wan, who was waiting for her at the entrance to a cafeteria. "Dhor?" she asked.

Obi-Wan smiled. "Door." It opened, and they went through.

There was a rush of noise and smells. Ami's stomach growled again, louder this time. The smell of stewed meat and vegetables was overwhelming, and her mouth began to water. She didn't notice the slight pause in the sound of speech as the Jedi in the cafeteria stopped to examine her. More than one Jedi raised an eyebrow or antennae at the aura of the Force around her.

The pause, although slight, wasn't lost on Obi-Wan. It will be hard to pass her off as a visiting dignitary, he thought, with all of her force potential. It will be equally hard to hide her, if someone should come looking.

He handed Ami a tray and she took it, bemused. Unsure of her eating habits, Obi-Wan loaded her tray with fruit, several meats, a loaf of bread, pasta, cheese, and a tall glass of water. He chose only a drink for himself and then sat with the girl as she made her way through the pile of food.

She asked the name of each item before she began, repeating the strange words slowly and carefully. She ate all of the fruit except for one, attacked the bread and pasta with a vengeance, and nibbled on the meats, drowning it all with the glass of water and a sigh.

"Good?" Obi-Wan asked, smiling, his fingers curled around his drink. Ami burped under her breath, and murmured an apology in her language. She smiled at Obi-Wan.

"Would you like to see the library?" Obi-Wan asked. Ami heard a question in his voice and studied his face carefully, as though searching for meaning. It was unnerving, the way those ice-blue eyes could stare, and Obi-Wan stood to free himself from her gaze. "Come with me. I think you'll like this."

As the doors slid open and Ami's face was bathed in the soft blue light of the Jedi library, Obi-Wan knew he was right. Ami did like the library. Her face softened and a smile spread across her face.

"Library," Obi-Wan told her, with a sweeping gesture to encompass the computers, the shelves, the endless stacks of digital information, maps, novels, texts. He let Ami browse by herself for a while, walking softly between the shelves, admiring the busts and the computers. She ran her fingers along the electric books, a habit she held from libraries back home. She selected a text at random and pulled it from the shelf, flipping idly through the pages with a wistful look on her face.

Obi-Wan came up beside her. "Book," he said.

"Book." Ami stroked the page. She began to speak under her breath, in English. "I read a lot of books back home. I wish I could read, here." She looked up at the Jedi. "I wish I could talk to you. I have so many questions." She closed the book, and put it back in its place. The library shelf clicked and hummed, recognizing the electronic signature of the book.

Obi-Wan could hear a soft longing in her voice. "You'll learn our language soon enough. Shelf." He ran a hand across it.

"Shelf."

The days began to run together for Ami. On the third day – or was it the fourth? – Obi-Wan brought her clothing, simple blue and pale green dresses that thankfully had two, and only two, sleeves. Each dress had a small silver pin attached to the collar, with an inscription that Ami could not yet read: Visiting Delegate, followed by the triple circles that signified a homeworld outside the republic. Obi-Wan had purposefully chosen that particular insignia, hoping that it would help Ami avoid awkward questions.

It became a common sight in the temple those days: the Jedi and the alien girl, walking the halls, talking softly to each other, taking meals together. Obi-Wan was surprised by how quickly she grasped language. By the end of her second week at the temple she was forming simple sentences, and responding politely to Jedi who greeted her. She would quietly request her favorite foods at meals, and was beginning to read. Always hungry for more language, Ami began prompting lessons from the Jedi. During one of their lunches, Ami meaningfully picked a small handful of raisons. "One," she said deliberately in her own language, placing a single fruit in front of Obi-Wan. "Two." She set down a second. "Three."

Obi-Wan caught on with a sudden smile. Ami was counting. "One," he said, placing his own fruit in front of her. "Two, three…"And with that, Obi-Wan began teaching her mathematics. Although, he mused, he wasn't teaching her math as much as teaching her the names of operations. It became clear that Ami was already a proficient mathematician.

Armed with vocabulary and mathematics, Ami would increasingly spend her days in the library. She would go for hours, days, at a time. Obi-Wan started her with the earliest primers, meant for Jedi hopefuls. She devoured those, and asked for more.

Obi-Wan hesitated. Most of the books in the library dealt with the Force – philosophy, applications, histories. And as the Jedi council had not approved her as a Jedi, much of that knowledge was forbidden. Obi-Wan did his best to find her simple histories, or dissertations on the cultures of neighboring planets.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

It was Ami's voice, and Obi-Wan looked up from his hologram. "Yes, Ameliyah-Piter?" He smiled, recognizing the pout on Ami's face as the one that preceded a question of vocabulary.

"Mmm," she hummed a little, and opened to a page in her book. "Please to tell me, the meaning of the words here." She pointed to a passage in her history text. Obi-Wan glanced over the paragraph, which described how force lightening had been used in the battle of Bryndi. He let out a breath, and took the book from Ami's hands.

"Ameliyah-Piter, there are many things here you are not ready to understand. This is one of them."

"Then I wait," Ami said, slowly, carefully. "I have trust you tell me."

Obi-Wan smiled. "I will." 


	4. Girl Who is Not Jedi

It was the same nightmare. "Bring him to me!" the voice was shouting, so loud it sent shivers of pain down Ami's spine.

"Never!" She sat bolt upright, clutching at her strange, circular bed sheets. Sleep was useless now. Ami hastily threw her green dressing gown around her shoulders and tightened the waist, exiting her room barefoot, distracted. The dressing gown, one of the latest gifts from Obi-Wan, was soft and warm, which was welcome after the cold sweat of her nightmare. She paced the hallways, silent in the dead of night, empty.

Obi-Wan was in the library. The knowledge came to her easily, although she didn't know why. She hesitated, then decided to join him.

Obi-Wan smiled when the door slid open to reveal Ami. He could sense her nightmares, and he knew that tonight's had driven her from bed.

"No sleep?" he asked, kindly.

"No. I had… mmm… how do you say it? Bad pictures in my eyes."

"Nightmare." Obi-Wan said.

"Nightmare. I have a lot of nightmare lately." Ami sat down beside him, glancing idly at his hologram. An old simulation of a galyatic ice race.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"What is the silver always on your belt?"

Obi-Wan stood, and pushed aside his robes, placing a hand on his lightsaber. "This?"

"Yes."

"My lightsaber." He removed it from his belt, activated it, and the sudden blue light threw Ami's face into sharp relief. She gasped.

"I remember this," she said. "With this, you fought the man without a face."

He deactivated the lightsaber, and handed it to Ami. The council wouldn't approve, Obi-Wan knew, but the Force was telling him this was right. Ami curled her fingers around the weapon. "Very dangerous, yes?"

"Very. All Jedi Knights carry one."

"This is a place for Jedi Knights, then, yes?"

"Yes."

Ami handed the lightsaber back to Obi-Wan, carefully. "I am thinking that this is not a place for girl like me." Her voice dropped to a whisper."Girl who is not Jedi Knight."

I would change that, Obi-Wan thought suddenly. I would have you be my padawan.

Ami seemed to compose herself. "I do not want to seem … mmm… how you say it? Not having the thank-yous."

Obi-Wan had to laugh at her phrase. "Ungrateful. You don't want to seem ungrateful."

"That is the word." Ami smiled sadly. "I need a place. A job. I learn language now, yes, it is good to learn this. But more things. I… am sorry. I do not have the words."

"You're being called, Ameliyah-Piter. Called to a higher destiny."

Ami wrinkled her nose. "Please, Obi-Wan Kenobi. My name does not sound pretty in your language. I have a short-name. Ami."

"Ami, then." Obi-Wan let the conversation wane, saving discussions of her destiny for another time.

Ami yawned. "Home, we would say we have little pieces of beach in our eyes. Sand in our eyes. It means time to sleep. I have sand in my eyes now."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

She was gone, and Obi-Wan passed a hand over his face. He'd handed her his lightsaber. She could have cut him in half, unknowingly. But he had seen, in her eyes, what was it? A vision of the knight she could be. He would have to ask the council for permission soon. He fervently hoped they would agree granting Ami the status of padawan.

Else he would train her in secret.

And he did not like that idea at all.

Ami was cheerful at breakfast, dressed in one of the blue robes that matched her eyes. She had pulled her hair back into a severe bun, looking for all the world like the delegate her badge claimed her to be.

"Would you like to go on a short trip today, Ami?" Obi-Wan asked, taking a bite of his pea hen egg.

"Trip? To where?"

"The Galactic Republic. Our center for politics."

"Many people from different worlds there, yes?"

"Yes."

"I would be pleased to go."

'Many different worlds' did not do the senate justice, Ami thought. The floating platforms seemed to go on forever, the echoing voices of speakers ringing in her ears. Obi-Wan escorted her into a Jedi platform, sitting beside her and nodding politely to the delegates seated around them.

"Greetings, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan turned and bowed to the delegation on the left. "Pleased to see you again, Delegate Rundi."

A stately Cerean, delegate Andi Rundi was one of Obi-Wan's favorite senators. Perhaps it was that binary brain in his oddly shaped head, but Rundi always seemed fair, balanced, matter-of-fact.

"I do not believe I have been introduced to your companion," the Cerean said with a smile.

"I am pleased to introduce Miss Ameliyah Peter."

Ami, hearing her name, turned. She smiled and bowed to the Cerean, and he did the same.

"Andi Rundi, madam. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"And I yours, Delegate Rundi," Ami responded politely.

"Where do you hail from, Madam Peter?"

"Outside the Republic, sir."

"Indeed? That is unusual. Does your system have a name?"

"Mmm. We call my planet Earth, sir."

"How quaint." The Cerean smiled. "Have you seen much of Coruscant?"

"No, sir. I have made an arrival most recently."

"Well, as it happens, I have an extra ticket for the Coruscanti Opera house tonight. Would you care to join myself and my wives?"

Ami glanced towards Obi-Wan, confusion in her eyes.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "I think Miss Peter would greatly enjoy the music of our local opera."

Music. The confusion in Ami's eyes disappeared. "Many thanks, Delegate Rundi," she said. "I would have be very pleased to attend."

Rundi smiled at her grammar. "I will meet you at the Opera house then, tonight at 19." Rundi turned his attention to Obi-Wan. "I have a question for you, Master Kenobi. Have you seen Senator Palpatine recently?"

"I have not been in the star system for several weeks," said Obi-Wan, "But I have not seen the senator since my arrival."

"It is odd," Rundi said. "I had arranged a dinner of state with the senator a few days ago, and he never arrived."

"That is out of the ordinary for Senator Palpatine. I will let you know if I hear of anything."

At that point the senate was called to order. Andi Rundi nodded his thanks, and the chamber grew quiet, ready for the meeting to begin. Ami settled back in her chair, arranging her skirt around her ankles and listening intently, trying to catch words, phrases. Much of the language was still too technical for her to understand, but she could catch glimpses of meaning, and Obi-Wan was always happy to whisper an answer to her questions.

Voices echoed and waned in the great hall. Ami's eyes shifted from one delegation to another, amazed at the display of alien cultures. She smiled.

Obi-Wan watched her carefully. He could think of no one kinder or more respectable to take Ami to the opera than Andi Rundi, and yet he could not shake the feelings of misgiving that crept slowly into his mind.

The meeting sojourned after a few hours, and Ami took care to stay beside Obi-Wan in the tide of senators that exited the building. They walked to Obi-Wan's speeder, Ami asking questions about the senate and the sculptures that surrounded the building. As Obi-Wan piloted the speeder out of the senate's landing bay, Ami peered down at the buildings below, enjoying the rush of air.

When they arrived at the temple, Ami declared her intention to spend her afternoon in the library. Obi-Wan acquiesced, reminding her of the opera that evening.

"I will remember," Ami said with a smile. "I meet you at the speeder?"

"18:30. Don't be late, it's a cultural insult."

"Master Kenobi, if Jedi as yourself says it is a cultural insult, than I shall be right with time." She smiled and bowed slightly, then wandered towards the library. Obi-Wan blinked, surprised. Had Ami made a joke? Could Ami be referring to his slightly… sarcastic reputation? The girl absorbed more language than he thought.

And another matter: she had called him Master Kenobi. Before she had referred to him by his full name, and without a title. But now she called him Master Kenobi. Certainly this was a result of hearing the term used by others, but from the mouth of the girl he hoped to make his padawan, the title seemed to weigh heavier in his mind.

The doors to the library slid open, and Ami took a deep breath, enjoying the cool, musty smell that all libraries have – even the ones in foreign galaxies. Some of the Jedi looked up and exchanged greetings, smiling. Ami felt very peaceful, very much at home.

She made her way to the history section, browsing through the volumes pertaining to galaxies outside the republic.

"Hello, Ami."

Ami turned to find the head librarian, Jocasta Nu, walking towards her, a smile on her face. "Galaxy maps again?" she asked.

Ami sighed, tipping her head to one side as she studied the book in front of her. "I want to find my home."

"Are you happy here, Ami?" Jocasta asked, sensing a hint of sadness in Ami's voice.

"Yes – no." Ami stammered. "I am stupid, Mistress Nu. I do not know where it is I came from."

"I did not ask you about where you were, Amelia Peter. I ask you about where you _are_." Jocasta's voice was soft, but dangerous. Ami looked up, surprised. Jocasta continued. "We are not in control of our pasts, Ami. There are many here who cannot return home, either. But will this knowledge continue to pain you, or can you find happiness here, with the Jedi?"

Ami was taken aback. "A – a small happiness comes tonight, I think," Ami said. "A senator has asked me to accompany him to the, mmm, music."

"The opera?"

"Yes. Opera."

"May I ask, Miss Peter, what you were planning on wearing?"

"This?" Ami said hesitantly, running a hand over her pale blue delegate's robe.

"No no no no no." Jocasta tutted. "Follow me. I think I have something that will suit you better."


	5. Padawan

Obi-Wan drummed his fingers along the side of the speeder, waiting. 18:25.

The doors to the speeder bay hissed open, and Obi-Wan sensed Ami behind them. She took a step into the light, and Obi-Wan stared.

Instead of the simple blue delegate's robe, Ami wore a brilliantly white dress. The full skirt was sewn with tiny crystals that sparkled as she moved. The skirt tapered to a form-fitting waist, sewn thick with crystals, which gave way to a loose top of white silk, the sleeves of which slipped becomingly off of each shoulder. She wore her hair down, loose about her face, with several white ribbons braided into it. Ami walked forward shyly, her hands plucking nervously at the skirt.

"Too much dress?" she asked.

"No, you look perfect for the opera. Where did you get that?"

"Master Yoda said dress no longer right size."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "No, really."

"Mistress Nu was kind to let me take dress for tonight."

"You look lovely."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan flinched internally at the formal title. Not a master yet, he thought to himself. "I have something very important for you," Obi-Wan said, removing a small bundle wrapped in blue silk from the speeder. He unwound the fabric to reveal a short, thick metal rod, which he whipped smartly through the air. The rod unfolded itself to reveal a sparkling silver fan. "This is made from cortosis and phrik, two minerals which are virtually indestructible. It will stop almost any weapon. It will even slow a lightsaber. Do you understand?"

"I- I need to protect self?" Ami stammered, frightened.

"It's possible," Obi-Wan said, closing the fan with the same snap of his wrist. "Closed, this will puncture armor," he continued, showing her how the closed tip became a tight point.

He handed the fan handle first to Ami, who took it with a trembling hand. Nevertheless, she opened it smartly. The fan was surprisingly light, and she held it in front of her face, giving it an experimental wave. She closed it again with a snap. "Do I need to be frightened of opera?" Ami asked.

Obi-Wan gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "No, most likely not. But it is better to be prepared. I will be waiting for you outside the opera house. I will know if you need me."

"How?"

"It is a skill that Jedi Knights possess."

Ami looked skeptical. There was a beaded chain on the dull end of the fan, and Ami slipped it around her wrist.

"You can trust me," Obi-Wan said. "I will make sure nothing harms you. And I have something else for you. A gift." He handed her a small, tan box. Ami opened it, the fan dangling loosely from her wrist.

It was a necklace. Silver, it sparkled in the dim light of the landing bay – a chain with four crystal stars. "Beautiful," Ami whispered, lifting the chain from the box. The necklace was long enough that it slipped easily over her head. The stars rested just above the neckline of her dress. "Thank you."

Obi-Wan took the empty box back. "Come now, or you'll be late."

Ami sat carefully in the speeder, making sure not to wrinkle the voluminous skirt, laying her weapon-fan carefully across her lap. She ran her fingers first along the cold cortosis, then across the gems of her necklace. Obi-Wan piloted out of the bay, into the Coruscant night.

The opera house was flooded with light from every angle, illuminating the many faceted, crystalline windows and intricately carved stonework. The main door was framed with thick blue velvet that matched the carpet rolling out into the landing bay. As Ami struggled out of the speeder and arranged her skirt, Obi-Wan scanned the crowd. The feeling of misgiving grew inside of him, although he couldn't place it. He heard the swish and click of Ami opening her fan, and turned to find her holding it to her face. Had she sensed the tremor in the Force as well? Or was she just shy in the face of the elegantly dressed theater-goers?

"Go on," Obi-Wan said with a wave of his hand. "Go in."

"You are not to come?"

"No, Senator Rundi invited you, not me. Go on."

Ami opened her mouth as if to object, but then visibly straightened her back and walked into the theater. Obi-Wan watched her go, and slipped quietly back into the shadows, carefully examining every speeder or ship that approached. He sank deeper back into the landing bay, behind one of the bright lamps that illuminated everything else. He unhooked his lightsaber and held it close.

Ami tried not to let her nervousness show, although the hand that held her fan trembled slightly. Opera patrons crowded her on all sides, talking amiably but far too quickly for Ami to understand.

The main hall was three stories tall, the crystal windows eased slightly open and framed by gossamer curtains that fluttered in the night air. Three enormous and intricate chandeliers cast the marble hall into a golden glow, illuminating the story-tall murals depicting scenes from famous operas.

Across the hall, Senator Rundi caught her eye, and Ami threaded her way across the floor to meet him.

"Delegate Peter, you honor us with your presence."

"The honor is mine, Senator Rundi," Ami said, folding her fan and dropping a curtsey.

Rundi took one of her hands and kissed it. "May I introduce my wives? These are my honor wives, Chay, Midge, Kit, and Risa, and my bond wife, Pidgin."

Each of the wives smiled and kissed Ami on both cheeks. They were all as tall and stately as Rundi, with the same strange, cone-like heads. Dressed in flowing dresses that reminded Ami of Indian Saris, they seemed proud, but kind. Pidgin was immediately Ami's favorite – her smile was so warm and sincere that Ami felt all of her shyness melt away.

"Andi told us you hail from outside the republic," Chay said.

"I find that fascinating," Risa quipped. "How many Senators accompanied you?"

"There is only myself," Ami said.

"My, what a long trip, and all by yourself!" Kit said.

"You look so young," Midge commented. "You can't be older than a standard century!"

"I have only nineteen standard years to my name," Ami said, blushing. I think, she added quietly to herself.

"And your system sent you on a solo mission! How brave." Chay sounded impressed.

"You must be held in very high regard in your system." Risa smiled.

"I can see that Delegate Peter is far too humble to answer you, Risa," Pidgin spoke for the first time, sending a smile first to Risa then to Ami.

A gong sounded, and people began to move towards the doors that led to the theater. "If it would please my wives and my guest, I will lead the way to our seats," Rundi said with a small bow.

The wives all murmured their ascent, and Rundi took Pidgin in one hand, leading the way into the theater. Risa offered her arm to Ami, who placed her palm lightly across it, and they followed. Ami could hear the other wives chatting good naturedly behind her.

The theater was sloped, shaped in a semi-circle around the stage. Rundi showed his wives and Ami to a section of seats, and Ami sat between Pidgin and Risa. In a few moments, the stage flared into brilliant lights, and the music started.

Ami drank it in – the strange melodies alternatively reminded her of home and of the Jedi Temple. The music swelled and surrounded her, the words to the songs obscure yet meaningful. The costumes were vibrant, brightly colored and flowing – each singer with their own style, their own set of colors that swirled in time with the music. The opera, as far as Ami could tell, was about a woman who had lost her memory, and the man who loved her. The woman, throughout the play, slowly regained her mind, and came to love the man just as she had before. Ami was entranced, and applauded whole heartedly at the intermission.

"Let's stretch our legs," Risa said, as the lights dimmed and people began moving towards the entrance hall again.

"And something to drink," Chay said with certainty. They stood, and followed the crowd to the main hall.

Out in the open, the air smelled different, to Ami. There was an acid, rancid scent that seemed to float into her consciousness, making her nervous. She curled her fingers around her closed fan.

Rundi and his wives seemed unaffected. They gossiped with each other and the nearest patrons about the opera and the performers, unaware of the acid smell that was growing stronger.

And then suddenly – Ami knew. The source of the smell was a marksman in the window. And he was aiming for her.

The next second of her life was something Ami would never forget. In less time than it takes to think, or even take a breath, Ami was suddenly aware that a bullet was speeding towards her. She didn't think – she didn't look – she simply reacted. The fan unfurled with a snap and she brought it up to her neck, blocking the trajectory of the bullet that she couldn't see, but could sense.

There was a dull thud as the bullet struck her fan and fell useless to the floor. She glanced down to where it lay, and realized it was not a bullet but a dart. Poison. Conversation continued around her, everyone unaware of the danger she had just faced.

She returned her gaze with a snap to the window where the marksman had been, and saw a sudden blaze of blue light – Obi-Wan's saber. The opera goers gasped and turned their faces to the window above, watching as the blue lightsaber fended off the sharp red darts of a blaster. Obi-Wan was right – he was protecting her. Ami felt herself relax slightly, trusting in the Jedi to defeat whatever danger had lurked above.

As everyone's attention was held by the saber fight above, Ami stiffened. The acid smell came in another wave - there was a man, dressed in black, his hood pulled low over his face, and he entered the main door of the theater. Her heart tightened suddenly in her chest as the man began to walk her way. The blue-and-red fight continued in the window above her.

Escape through the main door was blocked by the dark stranger. And if she stayed in the crowd any longer, these people would get hurt. Ami knew this black hooded man would not show courtesy to the innocents around her. Trying to keep her face calm, Ami turned around and walked back into the deserted theater. The doors to the theater shut behind her, and she broke into a run, then dove between a row of seats, hiding face down on the floor, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

He was coming. She could sense it. She heard the doors open and felt him enter the theater. She tried to keep her breathing as quiet as she could, barely daring to breathe at all.

He started to laugh, as he walked closer. "Do you think you can hide from me, little girl?" the man asked, his voice guttural and cruel. "I can sense you. I can sense every little frightened beat of your heart."

His footsteps were coming closer. He was barely five feet from her now. Ami brought her closed fan out in front of her, and held it ready.

"And you do fear me, don't you, Amelia?" His dark boots appeared in front of Ami's face, and she lashed out, stabbing the man's shin as hard as she could with the tipped end of the fan.

He howled in rage and picked Ami up by the back of the neck, flinging her across the theater as easily as he might fling a doll. Ami hit the stage hard, awkwardly, and slid to the floor. Miraculously she had a hold of the fan, and flicked it open as she struggled to stand.

The man was tall, dark, and as he threw his hood back Ami could see his entire face was tattooed with red and black stripes, like a tiger gone wrong. Horns jutted out of his bald head, making him look devilish, evil.

"You killed my master, little girl," the Sith said, with a cruel smile. "But I have a fate much worse than death planned for you."

He raised a gun. Ami blocked the first shot with her fan, but his second bullet grazed her wrist and forced her to drop the fan, her only protection. Paralyzed by fear, Ami looked into the Sith's face as he smiled, pressed a button on the side of the gun, and shot.

White hot pain ripped into Ami's shoulder, and she crumpled to her knees, waiting for the killing blow.

It never came. When Ami found the courage to raise her eyes, she was alone in the theater. The acid smell of the Sith had gone, completely. She put a trembling hand to her shoulder and found a dart, much like the one she had blocked in the main hall.

The doors flew open, and Obi-Wan ran to her, his lightsaber throwing the theater into sharp blue relief. Realizing they were alone, he extinguished the saber and fell to his knees before the girl.

"Amelia Peter, are you hurt?"

Ami pulled her trembling hand away from the dart that remained in her shoulder. Obi-Wan reached out to her and plucked the dart from her skin. Ami cried out in pain, and blood welled from the place where it had punctured. "What happened?" Obi-Wan asked, putting the dark in one of his lined leather pouches. He removed a handkerchief from his belt and pressed it against Ami's shoulder.

"Man in the window with dart first," Ami stammered. "You fought him, I saw. While you were in window, second man – man with red face. Black face. He came, found me. Shot me." She scrambled out with one hand and took hold of her fan.

Obi-Wan put his arms around the girl and picked her up. "I'll get you back to the temple, everything will be all right. Save your strength."

"No," Ami pounded with one fist gently on his chest. "Put me down, I can walk. If you carry me out of here, everyone will think that I am dying. Or that I am in danger. He came only for me. Put me down."

Obi-Wan was startled, but he know she was right. "You're sure you can walk?"

"I can walk."

Obi-Wan set the girl on her feet, and she flipped the fan open to hide the wound in her shoulder.

In the main hall, Rundi approached them, looking concerned. "Are you alright, Delegate Peter? You ran out on us, and now you're so pale!"

"Please, Senator Rundi, I thank you for your hospitality, but I have just been informed of a most important matter of state with my star system. Please accept my apologies, and extend them to your wives. You have been very kind."

Was Ami's language getting better? Obi-Wan was amazed at her poise as she allowed Rundi to kiss her hand in farewell.

He helped her out to the speeder, his eyes darting in every direction. She collapsed into her seat, shaking with fear. Obi-Wan brought his comlink to his lips, urgently getting the attention of the Jedi medical staff. "I want a transport waiting at the landing bay. Delegate Peter has been shot."

"It doesn't pain me," Ami said, when Obi-Wan finished. "Is it poison?"

"I don't know." Obi-Wan swerved to avoid traffic, pressing the speeder faster. Indignant pilots around them honked.

Ami dabbed lightly at the wound, and bit her lips.

On the landing bay, Obi-Wan ignored her protests and carried the girl in his arms to the waiting medical transport. He laid her in the bed and the med-droids took over, strapping pulse readers and toxin sensors readers to her skin. A twilek doctor approached at a run. Obi-Wan quickly explained what had happened, and handed the doctor the dart from his belt.

Things began to go fuzzy for Ami. She felt heavy, as though she was sinking into the ground. Her vision began to go blurry, but she could hear Obi-Wan's voice, the voice of the doctor, and the faint whirring and buzzing of the droids around her. "It's so thick," she whispered.

They brought her to an exam room. The twilek, Doctor Ghreshard, read the dart into a spectrometer. "It's pure novocain," the doctor said. "A sedative. And diluted, so that it won't take effect right away."

"A kidnapping drug?" Obi-Wan asked.

"It looks that way," the twilek said, shining a light into Ami's half-closed eyes. "She'll be able to sleep it off without a problem."

"Not… kidnapped." Ami mumbled. "Kenobi. He didn't. Kidnap. Something else."

Obi-Wan brushed a strand of hair from her face. "It's alright, Amelia Peter. You're safe now. You can go to sleep."

"No, he'll come."

"You're safe. Sleep." Obi-Wan used a trickle of force to send her to rest. Her breathing slowed, evened. The drug smoothed the lines in her face, and Obi-Wan saw her as she must have looked before she had ever met a Sith. He couldn't help but notice she was beautiful.

"She'll be safe here, Master Kenobi," the doctor said kindly.

Obi-Wan pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. He could still sense a trickle of worry, a tensing inside her Force, but he let the doctor convince him to leave. He went straight to Yoda.

Yoda listened passively, both hands clutching the top of his walking stick. "Alone with the Sith, she was?" he asked, when Obi-Wan finished.

"Yes," Obi-Wan shuddered at the thought of his Amelia Peter confronting such a monster.

"And yet, take or kill her, he did not." Yoda frowned. "No good can this be. Other plan, the Sith have. Sleep with these thoughts, I will."

"As will I, Master Yoda." Obi-Wan retired.

Ami was dreaming, in a sleepy, drugged haze. She dreamt that she rose from her hospital bed and made her way through the temple to the main doors. No one stopped her. No one questioned her. The hallways were empty. Her footsteps were silent.

They were waiting for her at the main door – 3 droids. She could sense them. She opened the doors and let them in. They were black, bowed forward, with scuttling, scrabbling legs that clicked against the cold marble. They went past her. They were going for Obi-Wan.

Ami shot bolt upright in bed and threw herself to the floor. Medical electrodes ripped from her skin, leaving red, angry, welts, but she was already out the door. An alarm went off behind her, but she ran for all she was worth towards Obi-Wan's room.

She ran full tilt at his door, and as if by her own will, it opened. The droids were inside his room already, unfurling, pointing their guns at Obi-Wan's sleeping form.

Ami screamed – a high, jarring note that came from deep inside. All three of the droids shattered, throwing glass, metal, and blood in all directions. Ami was coated, but she stood there and let the scream die in her throat.

Obi-Wan was awake now – having jumped to his feet at Ami's entrance. The droids were destroyed, utterly shattered into pieces. Ami stood there, stock still, looking at him with large, frightened eyes. Her hospital gown was thick with wet, warm blood.

Blood? Obi-Wan scanned the wreckage in front of him. Each of the droids had been filled with blood, Ami's blood. That was why he couldn't sense them – Ami's midichlorians masked their true intent. Someone had a hold on bottles of Ami's blood, and the thought chilled him.

Ami began to sob. "Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, it's me. I did this. I did this. Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan stepped over the wreckage and took Ami in his arms, cradling her against his chest, making what he hoped were soothing noises. He carried her into his shower and stripped the ruined clothes off of her, using the Force to call all of the broken glass and metal away from her skin and hair. Ami was sobbing uncontrollably now, and he turned the water on as hot as it would go, rinsing the blood from her body, rubbing the back of her neck and shoulders. "It's ok, Ami, it's over now."

"No, you don't know." She sobbed. "It was me, I let them in."

Obi-Wan stopped the shower and dried her, then slid a jedi robe over her head and tied it loosely at the waist. Ami turned to face him. "Please, I must speak to the counsel. Please."

Obi-Wan tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "I'll arrange it. Right now."

The counsel was ready in minutes, and Ami stood in the middle of them, trembling.

"To say to us, what have you?" Yoda asked.

"I was asleep," Ami said. "But I stopped sleeping and I got up, and I walked to the doors, and I let the droids inside."

"Why did you do this?" Mace Windu asked, sharply.

"I don't know," Ami curled and uncurled her fists. "I didn't have a choice. I felt – compelled."

"Then what happened?"

"Then I ran to Obi-Wan."

"From where?"

Ami looked taken aback. She paused, and then said carefully, "From my bed."

The Jedi exchanged glances. "Go on," Windu said.

"I ran to Obi-Wan, and the door opened, and I saw the droids there, and I screamed. And they were died." She sniffed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I came to say it was my fault. Please," she said. "Do not send me away. I beg you, I did not know to. I did not mean to."

Yoda smiled. "How you arrived from door to bed, tell me."

Ami looked confused. "I…"

"How your electrode sensors were activated after droids entered building, tell me also, hmm?"

Ami swallowed.

Mace Windu called up a hologram. "These are the security tapes from this evening." Ami watched as the main doors opened and the droids entered. "As you can see, Miss Peter, you are nowhere near the doors. There must have been some other breach in our security."

"It… wasn't me? But I felt it. So real!"

"Miss Peter," Yarael Proof said kindly. "Members of the Jedi order often have prophetic dreams, which can feel very real at times."

"Dream? I am not Jedi."

"No, you are not," Mace Windu said. "And yet you managed to open Obi-Wan's door and destroy three droids without laying a hand on them. We would be doing you an injustice if we did not tell you that you have the potential to become a knight."

"Destroyed the droids, you have." Yoda said. "Happened before, this has?"

Ami closed her eyes. "When my sister had four years, she ran into … mmm… place with speeders on earth. Street. Speeder – car came towards her, and I screamed, and the car slid away, crumpled up, ruined. I grabbed my sister and ran. I never spoke of this before." Ami opened her eyes, and they were shining with tears. "I think it was the same with the droids, tonight."

"To come to us and tell us of your involvement tonight shows great courage," Mace Windu said.

"To be Jedi Knight is not easy," Saesee Tin said. "There are terrible pains, hardships, and you must master your body and your mind."

"You must be one with all things," Depa Billaba said.

"Face pain, a Jedi does," Yoda said. "Face joy, a Jedi also does."

"Will you become a Jedi, Amelia Peter?" Mace Windu asked.

Ami swallowed, and thought carefully about her response. "If I can become like the hands that saved me, I will give everything to be a Jedi."

"Spoken well, you have." Yoda smiled. "Master Obi-Wan's padawan, you are."


	6. Jedi

Ami was out of shape. Her new Jedi robes clung to her body in embarrassing, sweat stained patterns while she ran beside her master in the training grounds, pausing at his commands to jump or twist or do a push-up. Her breath came in uneven gasps, and her heart hammered awkwardly in her chest. When Obi-Wan called an end to their exercises, Ami flopped on her back and cursed colorfully in her native language.

Obi-Wan let her lie still for a moment, catching his own breath, inwardly pleased at her effort. She was still soft and weak, but she didn't complain at the rigorous exercise. She would shape up, and soon.

During the day Ami and Obi-Wan exercised, and at night, in their shared suite, they practiced meditation. The new suite was simple, small, well suited for a master and apprentice. Two beds, each with a storage chest at the end, a window looking over the city. There was a public bathroom down the hallway, but there were private chambers within the showers, and Ami didn't mind the inconvenience of trundling down the hallway. It reminded her of school, actually.

Her progress came slowly, but surely. Ami began to notice that she did not tire as easily, that she could do more push ups than before, that her breath came easily, even as she sparred with Obi-Wan. She learned to block and kick and punch and duck and weave. Obi-Wan was demanding, but patient, and she began to take shape as a Jedi.

Meditation, on the other hand, was much more difficult, and frustrating. Ami learned to recognize that the tingle in the air around Obi-Wan was not a smell, but his presence in the force. However, this "force," even in the quiet solitude of their shared suite, remained elusive. Ami tried to open her mind, feel the connectedness of everything, but all she could feel was the uncomfortable floor beneath her and the itch on her nose. She sighed, and suddenly a sharp pain lanced across her forehead.

"Ow!" she yelped, and opened her eyes. Obi-Wan had thrown a training droid at her. "What did you do that for?"

"To test you. You failed, by the way. Close your eyes again."

Grumbling, Ami did as she was told. This time, however, her nerves were on edge. She listened for the slightest movement in Obi-Wan's cloak. Perhaps a change in his breathing. Or in his heartbeat.

His heartbeat. Ami suddenly realized that she could hear his heartbeat. And the heartbeat of a Twi'lek that just passed outside their door. She could sense the sounds of the city outside, and the pressure in the boards beneath her feet. In an instant, she knew that Obi-Wan was using the force to aim another training droid, this time at her left shoulder –

She caught it, and then opened her eyes. Obi-Wan smiled. "I think you're ready for class," he said.

"Class?"

Class turned out to be entry level Jedi training, with Master Yoda. Ami was slightly embarrassed to see that the other students were all much, much younger and smaller than she was. There was one exception, however – a giant, pot bellied, green, furry being who towered over everyone at the temple. His name was, unsurprisingly, Big Jess, and he was roughly Ami's age. Big Jess explained that his people, the Oodindin, spent the first two decades of their life motionless in a cocoon, learning by listening and observing the world around them, but not uttering their first word or even moving until their twenty second birthday.

Because Ami was the only one who could even remotely match Big Jess' size, she was often paired with him during sparring lessons. The two of them learned the basic lightsaber moves together, thrusting and blocking and slicing under Master Yoda's ever watchful eye.

Big Jess had a dole, baleful humor that Ami found hilarious, and they often took their lunch breaks together, Big Jess doing spot-on impersonations of Yoda while they ate and drank. More than once Ami snorted juice out her nose.

Once Obi-Wan was there, watching the two apprentices giggle and trade gossip across the room. He smiled to see Ami adjusting to her new life, and Ami sensed the smile and looked up to return it. Big Jess attempted to take advantage of her distraction by stealing her dessert, but Ami was too quick and snatched it back. She stuffed the small cake her mouth, and Big Jess retaliated by picking her up by the back of her tunic, hoisting her over one shoulder, and carrying her out to their next class. Ami shrieked indignantly and clawed at Big Jess' shoulder.

After class Ami worked again with Obi-Wan, sparring and fighting and exercising, her new strength and sensitivity to the force aiding her tremendously, although she was still far behind the padawans her age. Obi-Wan, however, seemed pleased with her progress, and that night he ended practice with a hearty slap to her back.

Ami, as she would say at home, "hit the showers," trundling her aching but satisfied self down the hallway to the communal bathroom. She shut herself into one of the private baths, stripped, and stepped into the hot water with a sigh.

Life has become good, she thought to herself. I have a purpose… a reason. I'm training to be something bigger. A dark shadow on her shoulder caught her attention, and she craned to see down her back. There was a large, purpling bruise in the shape of Obi-Wan's hand. Ami grunted – the slap on the back hadn't felt that hard, but bruises happened. She shrugged and continued with her bath.

Obi-Wan grew increasingly more difficult to fight, until she could sense that he was not holding back anymore. In conjuncture, Obi-Wan was astonished to find Ami fencing and sparring on an even foot with him. That night he devised a plan… a test…

Ami checked her lightsaber, making small adjustments. Its blade was blue, like Obi-Wan's, and she clipped it deftly at her belt, next to the cortosis fan she still carried from that night at the opera. She waited in the practice room for Obi-Wan, but he was a few minutes late. Surely he hadn't forgotten…?

The door to the practice room hissed open, and Obi-Wan entered, followed by a strange, gaunt Jedi. Neither of them spoke, but activated their matching blue light sabers with a hiss.

Ami sensed a challenge and she smiled. She unhooked her own lightsaber and held it at the ready. The two older Jedi charged, and Ami stepped aside, blocked two blows and used the force to flip over their heads, landing in a flurry of blades and kicks.

Blades clashed. Sabers rang against her fan. Ami landed a kick.

The Jedi pressed on, and Ami began to grow tired, and felt her confidence flagging. Her blocks were almost too slow, and the force slipped away from her as she lost her breath. She attempted to step backwards to buy some time but someone's – Obi-Wan's?- foot swept her legs from under her. She put out a hand to stop herself, bringing her saber up to block a blow, but the fight was over. Obi-Wan and the mysterious Jedi both held their blades at her neck.

Carefully, Ami deactivated her lightsaber and lowered her eyes in shame and defeat. Another failed test. Still without speaking, the other two Jedi withdrew, leaving Ami alone in the chamber.

Just outside the practice chamber the two Jedi stopped to talk.

"I must say, Obi-Wan, well done."

"She's come a long way," Obi-Wan agreed. He smiled at his former master, Qui-Gon Jinn. "She's learning faster than I ever did."

Inside the chamber, Ami struggled to stand. She felt bruised all over and she still hadn't quite caught her breath. She put her sleeve to her face and coughed, wetly. She pulled her sleeve back and was astonished to see blood. She put her fingers to her lips – her lips were bloody. Ami began to panic. It was harder, harder to breathe. She coughed again, feeling blood dribble out from between her lips. She tried to call for Obi-Wan but found that she couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. Black spots swam before her eyes. She collapsed.

Outside the chamber, the two Jedi started at the sudden disturbance in the force, and burst inside just in time to watch Ami crumple. They raced to the girl, throwing themselves beside her.

"She's not breathing," Qui-Gon said. He grasped the collar of her tunic and tore it open. "Get help." While Obi-Wan fumbled with his comlink, Qui-Gon tipped Ami's head back, lowered his mouth to hers, and exhaled forcefully. He turned to put his ear near her mouth, listening for an answering breath. There was none, and he tried again. This time, Ami gave a strangled gurgle. Changing tactics, Qui-Gon pulled her to a sit, braced her back against his chest, and thrust a fist under her ribcage. Ami's eyes flew open and she coughed up a dark, coagulated clot of blot. She began to gasp and pant, and she fearfully clawed at Qui-Gon's arms, trying to escape his grasp.

"They're coming," Ami panted.

"No one's coming, Ami," Obi-Wan said gently.

"Sith," she gasped. "Here." She took a deep breath, shuddered, and began to breathe normally. Qui-Gon relaxed his hold, gripped her elbow, and helped her stand. She took a few deep breaths. "I saw them," she said, emphatically. "They're coming."

"You passed out, Ami." Obi-Wan said.

"The brain, depraved of oxygen, can produce hallucinations." Qui-Gon offered. Ami stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. Qui-Gon turned her wrist over and placed two fingers across it, feeling for her pulse. He noticed a dark blue bruise on the inside of her arm, and pushed back the sleeve. "What's this?" The bruises continued up her arm, five dark fingerprints around her forearm. Ami tried to pull her sleeve down to hide the marks, but Qui-Gon pushed the sleeve higher. There were long, rectangular bruises, and unmistakable handprints. The bruises only ended just beneath her collar. Qui-Gon glanced up at Obi-Wan, a sudden dark doubt in his eyes. He looked back at Ami "Let's get you to medical."

Outside the temple hospital Qui-Gon confronted Obi-Wan. "Do you touch her?"

Obi-Wan's eyes blazed. "She's my apprentice, of course I touch her."

"Don't be glib," Qui-Gon's voice was low and dangerous. "Do you beat her?"

"How can you even ask that?" Obi-Wan's voice contained a trace of a whine. "You know me too well to accuse me of … of this."

"Those marks didn't get there by themselves."

"Actually, masters, they did." The Jedi turned to face the Cerean doctor who had just spoken. "Master Obi-Wan, if you'll follow me."

Inside the hospital room, Ami was dressed in the simple white shift of a patient, gripping her chair nervously. The shift bared her arms, and Obi-Wan was suddenly struck with just how bruised she was.

The doctor smiled at Ami, and she stared at him stoically. "Ami has Uzzeki's disease. A build-up of dead midichlorians, which can cause excessive bruising and blood clots. The slightest touch could have given her these bruises."

"_Dead_ midichlorians?"

"The body can over produce midichlorians in response to a stress. When the stress is removed, the midichlorians are no longer needed, and atrophy."

A response to a stress. Obi-Wan saw, in his mind's eye, the dungeon he had rescued his padawan from. "What's the treatment?" he asked.

"Simple surgery. We'll anesthetize her, perform a dialysis to extrude excess midichlorians, and she's done. She'll need a check up in three months to see if she needs additional treatment."

"I don't… I don't want treatment."

The doctor stared at Ami. "Under anesthesia it's painless, and the blood clotting could become severe enough to cause strokes or lung complications. It's really not an option. You must have this treatment."

"Can I do it conscious?"

"The pain would be extraordinary. I could not allow it."

Ami looked at Obi-Wan, desperation in her eyes. "Don't be frightened," Obi-Wan chastised. "I'll be right here. You're not a child, Ami."

Ami pursed her lips in anger. "Fine. Do it. Do it now."

The doctor prepared a syringe of anesthetic. "Deep breaths," he said, and plunged the needle into her upper arm. Ami flinched.

"I don't like this," she said. "Something's wrong. This isn't right."

"Try to relax," the doctor said. "This won't take long."

Ami's eyelids felt very heavy. She struggled against the drug, staring at Obi-Wan with pupils that slowly dilated. "Master, I don't want… to sleep." She tried to stand up from the chair, but her feet slipped out from under her and she slid slowly to the floor. "Thisssh…" she began to slur her words. "Thisssh ishn't good…" Obi-Wan and the doctor helped her back into the chair.

"She should be asleep by now," the doctor said, a touch of surprise in his voice. Ami scrambled to touch Obi-Wan's sleeve. She tugged and said slowly, but firmly, "Don't … let… me go. No…more." Then she laughed, a low, deep laugh that sounded so unlike her. "Ssssiths."

"I'm going to give her another dose," the doctor said, watching Ami's struggling to keep her eyes open.

"No!" Ami whispered. The doctor injected her a second time. "Bi…" Ami moaned. "Obi…" She stretched a hand towards her master. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. She swallowed, and forced her eyes open. "No…"

"Good Lord," the Cerean said. "She's fighting off two doses of illiscane. Try to convince her to relax."

"Ami," Obi-Wan said, kneeling so that he was eye level. "Sleep. I won't let anything hurt you. Sleep."

"No…" her voice was barely audible.

Obi-Wan glanced up at the doctor. "May I use the force?"

"Certainly."

Obi-Wan placed a hand gently on the back of her neck, using the connection to send a deep sense of sleep. Ami's eyes met his and there was a sudden strange jolt through them both. Then, mercifully, Ami's eyes fluttered closed and her head lolled backwards. Obi-Wan helped the doctor recline the patient chair for surgery.

* * *

Ami slept. Obi-Wan watched her from across the room, right ankle on his left knee, rubbing his beard distractedly. They were back in their shared suite, the doctor assuring Obi-Wan that Ami would sleep the night and be perfectly fine in the morning. Although, the doctor did warn, she might be weaker in the force than usual for a few days.

"I don't like this…" Ami had said, as she had struggled against the anesthetic. Obi-Wan admitted to himself that he didn't like this either. It was easy to dismiss Ami's premonitions as the result of oxygen deprivation, but she had been right before and she could be right again.

Ami turned her head, opened her eyes, and stared unseeingly at her master.

"Ami?" Obi-Wan said, leaning forward.

She didn't blink, her shallow breathing continued uninterrupted. It was eerie, to say the least. She said something in her native language, whispering in the dark. She asked a question, and then repeated it in Corsucanti – "Why should I listen to you?"

"Ami?"

"This is my home, now. I won't!" She sat up, suddenly awake. "I WON'T! NO!" She shook her head, so violently she knocked into the wall, and then threw herself out of bed, her white nightgown swirling around her unsteady legs, tripping her up. Obi-Wan stood to catch her.

"Ami, Ami, calm down. You had a nightmare, you need to lie back down – "

She called her lightsaber to her hand, from behind his back. "They're here!" She was swaying and could barely stand. "Obi-Wan, quickly – "

The temple alarms began ringing. Obi Wan had only heard them once before. "Stay here!" he told Ami.

"No!" she stumbled after him.

Obi-Wan did something he wasn't proud of. He used the force on his padawan, full strength. The surgery had left her weak, unprotected by her own force, and she stumbled backwards, momentarily stunned. There was no time to second guess himself, and Obi-Wan threw himself out of the chamber and locked it firmly behind him.

There were raised voices from down the hallway, and from down the stairs, screams and the sound of crashing metal. Obi-Wan threw rushed down the flight of stairs to the main hallway, landing in the middle of a nightmare battle scene. Droid and jedi were mixed in a veil of black smoke and showering sparks. He threw himself into the fray.

How did so many droids gain entrance to the temple? Obi-Wan cut and blocked and slashed, but there seemed an endless line of the black-bug creatures. The thick smoke made it harder to fight, and Obi-Wan found himself coughing and hacking, unable to catch his breath.

There seemed to be endless waves of droids, some still spilling into the temple. Obi-Wan felt a phaser blast graze his wrist, but he gritted his teeth and kept fighting. There was a scream beside him as a Jedi went down, and Obi-Wan moved in place to protect the fallen comrade. He began to sweat, slicing through the air faster and faster, trying to stem the unending tide of black, mechanical menace.

"Uy-umph!"

Obi-Wan knew that particular outburst was Ami's. He risked a glance to his side and saw her fighting, blue lightsaber blazing, a Jedi robe thrown hastily around her shoulders. She fought methodically, like she was in drill class, but she was holding her own. The two knights continued the battle.

Ami stared down the droid in front of her, swinging her blade in an arc to shield her from its blasts. In the center of the droid she could see a small, red, pulsing gem.

No, not a gem. A vial. Of blood – her blood. Focusing her energy on the vial, she concentrated on narrowing the force to a pin-point. Calling on her own blood to surrender, she threw her power against it. It exploded, with a mild popping noise, and the blood dribbled down the inner workings of the droid. The machine seemed confused, momentarily disoriented, and Ami took advantage to slice her blade through its command center. It fell, defeated.

Ami spun around, "pop!"ing the blood vial in every droid she could see. The droids staggered, and the Jedi, too well trained to miss an opportunity, dispatched them easily.

The battle was over. Clutching a stitch in her side, Ami folded down to her knees. The Jedi called to one another, checking for wounded. Several sported laser gun burns, but everyone was accounted for. Obi-Wan stood still catching his breath and wondering what to say to his padawan.

Someone beat him to words. Mace Windu sheathed his blade and sent them both a dark look. "She's a liability." He spoke softly, but in the quiet of the battle's aftermath, the words shook around the room. "As long as she's here, and the Sith have her blood, they'll be able to bypass security every time. She can't stay, Obi-Wan!"

Ami, sweating, trembling, hung her head.

"Do you think they'll stop at her? Do you think any of us are safe while she remains?"

Obi-Wan reached down to grip Ami's upper arm and pull her to a stand.

"You invite the dark side, thinking that way," Obi-Wan snapped. "She's a knight as much as any of us."

Ami tore herself out of his grasp, and fled. Obi-Wan, clenching his teeth, shot Windu a dark look and turned to follow her.

"She's the one who invites the dark side, here, to us! She harbors it within her, Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan blew out his breath in disgust and followed the frantic trail of Ami's force to the bathroom. She was sitting slumped against the wall, looking exceedingly pale.

She glanced up at Obi-Wan. "I threw up," she whispered.

"I did, too, after my first battle," Obi-Wan admitted. He slid to a sit beside her. "You should have stayed – " he broke off his sentence as Ami leaned over to vomit into the drain again. He patted her back, absently. "You're all right now, you're all right."

"Master Windu is right," Ami said, wiping her mouth. "I'm a liability. I'm a danger to everyone."

"The Sith would like you to think that, I'm sure. None of this is your fault. None."

"What are we going to do?"

"Do?" Obi-Wan leaned his head back against the tiled wall. "I think we should find the ones responsible. I think we should get your blood back in your veins and out of the hands of the dark side."

Ami shuddered. "We have to go back to that planet, don't we?"

Obi-Wan drew a breath. "Yes."


End file.
